


Ice Cream Wars

by alexis (of_too_minds)



Series: Seasonal Shenanigans [3]
Category: Dark Angel
Genre: Fluff and Crack, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2014-02-07
Packaged: 2018-01-11 13:23:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1173561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/of_too_minds/pseuds/alexis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Max wants a Fudgy Buddy. So does Ames. Total crack ensues. Sequel to "Naughty & Nice".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ice Cream Wars

Max stomped through the marketplace, her pretty features marred by the scowl that took up permanent residence on her face somewhere around puberty. She was in a bad mood, which was akin to commenting that the sky is in fact blue. In other words, a completely obvious and unnecessary observation.

 

Behind her trailed her crew, otherwise known as OC and the Three Stooges. Original Cindy and Sketchy were checking out the fine lookin’ sistahs in the crowd and as usual, it was a tag-team effort. Normally Alec would be oogling the girls right along with them, and no doubt giving a running commentary on their measurements, but just then he was on the receiving end of a very long lecture from Logan.

 

“... and don’t be skimpy,” Logan ordered. “I want nothing but Grade A lean cut, 100% Canadian beef.”

 

“In this economy? It’ll cost a fortune,” Alec whined.

 

“Well you should’ve thought of that before you ruined everyone’s dinner.”

 

“Hey,  **I**  wasn’t the one in charge of grilling the steaks. You were, remember? All you let me do was boil the water.”

 

“Yeah, and then you threw it on a grease fire and almost burnt down my kitchen!! I can’t believe you did that.  **Everyone**  knows you need to use baking soda on a grease fire!”

 

“It’s not my fault Manticore skipped Home Ec class, Mr. I-own-35-different-aprons,” Alec protested. Logan glanced heavenward, beseeching whichever gods cared to listen to grant him patience. Surely he’d earned a ‘get into Heaven free’ card by now, because of all of Alec’s little misadventures at his expense.

 

“Anyway,” Alec continued, “you’re the one who couldn’t keep his mind on two jobs at once. Did’ya really hafta stand there and watch the pasta boil? I mean, how hard is it? You throw it in a pot of boiling water and BAM, ten minutes later you’re done.”

 

“Eight minutes, if you want it al dente. And you  **do so**  have to watch the pot. To make sure it doesn’t boil over,” Logan said defensively.

 

“As opposed to the meat. That doesn’t need to be watched to make sure it doesn’t, oh I dunno...  **burn**?”

 

“Alec!” Logan threw up his arms in exasperation. “You’re the one with the heightened sense of smell. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice it was burning long before I did.”

 

“You wouldn’t let me near the forks.”

 

“Metal forks scratch non-stick pans. I  **told**  you that already.”

 

Sensing he wasn’t likely to win the argument, Alec gave up defending himself and adopted his second most common facial expression... a pout. Since he was a genetically-enhanced pretty boy, pouting looked good on him. He drew admiring glances from most of the women in the crowd and not a few of the men. Normal wasn’t the only one who appreciated a fine-looking specimen.

 

Those admiring glances turned slightly murderous when they realized the hottie was being lectured at by an older, bespectacled man with a hairstyle vaguely resembling a chinchilla. Several older women in the crowd considered throwing themselves at Logan, scissors in hand. A group of nuns went so far as to hatch a plot to kidnap, er...  **rescue**  Alec, but that fell through when they couldn’t agree on who’d have the privilege of escorting him back to their cloister and who’d have to serve as the distraction.

 

Max tuned out the bickering men. Since they weren’t arguing over her, she wasn’t all that interested. And besides, she was on a mission. Her eyes roved over the crowd in search of her target. According to her sources, there was only one man in a 10-block radius who could give her what she craved.

 

A frozen, yummy Fudgy Buddy.

 

Her mouth watered at the thought of that ice creamy goodness covered in sweet, sweet chocolate and crunchy nuts. She could practically taste it -– the delicious combination of vanilla and chocolate, the coolness as it slid down her throat...

 

She’d craved one all day, but every single sector Normal sent her ‘bipping’ to was frustratingly Fudgy Buddy-less. It was a cosmic conspiracy, she was sure of it. The universe was out to deprive  **her** , Max, Queen of the Transgenics, of her ice cream. And the fiasco that was Logan’s dinner party just made her craving that much worse. Nothing quite like the smell of charred meat to send a girl running for chocolate and ice cream. Why Logan asked Alec of all people to help him prepare dinner she’d never understand. X5s excelled at most things, but cooking wasn’t anywhere on the list. It wasn’t even close to making the list. They didn’t do domestic well.

 

And if the two of them didn’t stop arguing over whose fault it was, she’d smack them both upside the head. Well, considering she couldn’t actually touch Logan, she’d just have to smack Alec twice as hard. Pesky virus.

 

Fortunately for Alec’s continued health and wellbeing, Max spied her target. She weaved her way through the crowd like an eel, giddy with anticipation. There was only one forlorn-looking Fudgy Buddy left in the tray. Max reached for it with single-minded intent, and never noticed the competition until it was too late.

 

Two hands simultaneously latched onto the ice cream bar. Max gasped aloud. Her eyes travelled slowly from the hand trying to steal her prize, up the black-suited arm, to the perpetually sulky face of...

 

...Special-Agent-in-Charge-of-Everything Ames White.

 

Max pouted. Ames scowled. Neither seemed to notice that the Fudgy Buddy was growing lopsided under their combined death-grip on it.

 

Max glared at Ames. Or at least she tried to. Given her lack of working facial muscles, her glare was somewhat less than intimidating. “Like it’s not bad enough you keep trying to kill me, now you’re gonna steal my ice cream too? Uh un. No way, pretty boy.”

 

“But Maaax, I thought  **I**  was your pretty boy,” Alec whined. His lower lip jutted out in a pout.

 

Logan shot both Alec and Ames a dirty look and muttered something under his breath about being “the original pretty boy,” but no one paid him any attention.

 

“No, you’re my hot solider boy,” Max corrected impatiently. “And you’re not my boy.”

 

Alec and Sketchy cocked their heads to the side, their foreheads crinkled in confusion as they struggled to understand the walking contradiction that was Max. Original Cindy rolled her eyes. She’d lay the smack-down on somebody’s ass, but she’d forgotten whose turn it was.

 

Ames glared at his arch-nemesis. He hated 452 almost as much as he loved Fudgy Buddies. And she was so close, just a scant arms-length away. He really ought to do the evil thing and nab her. For the good of mankind. Well, Familiar-kind actually, but now wasn’t the time to quibble about semantics. There were larger issues at stake here, like who was going to walk away with the prize -– mutant or freak?

 

He glanced back and forth between the two objects of his desire. 452... Fudgy Buddy... 452... Fudgy Buddy... 452... Ah hell, he wanted that ice cream, damn it! He had to fabricate an elaborate excuse to send Otto away, just so he could sneak down to the market to get his fix; it wouldn’t do his reputation as ‘the Big Bad’ any good if his underlings saw him munching happily on an ice cream bar. So he wasn’t about to give it up without a fight.

 

Scrunching his face into a look of horrified disgust, he pointed to something behind Max. “Ugg! What the hell is  **that**?” Predictably, Max, her crew, and everyone else within earshot turned to look where Ames was pointing. Taking advantage of Max’s gullibility, Ames yanked the Fudgy Buddy out of her grip and darted into the crowd. “Mine!” he chortled. “All mine!”

 

Max stomped her foot. “I  **hate**  him!” She ran off after him, shouting “Give me back my Fudgy Buddy, you nasty, selfish, inbred meanie!”

 

Alec, Sketchy, and Original Cindy looked at one another, shrugged, and then took off after Max. Logan smiled apologetically at the annoyed vendor and paid for the ice cream –- a little detail both Max and Ames had overlooked in the midst of their personal war -– and trotted after the others as fast as his electronically-enhanced legs could carry him.

 

Ames cut through the crowd with all the grace and tact of a shark surrounded by tuna fish. Anyone who didn’t get out of his way fast enough got a helping hand, or foot, depending. Max didn’t need Aragorn’s skill to track Ames across the market; all she had to do was follow the trail of bodies flung out of his way.

 

Ames risked a quick glance over his shoulder at his pursuers and, naturally, a sector cop chose that instant when Ames’ head was turned to step directly into his path. Ames ploughed right into him in a move that would make a linebacker proud. The cop flew backwards and landed on his ass in the middle of the dirty street. Ames went down on his knees and only his outstretched hands saved him from kissing mud. Several people in the crowd snickered.

 

Ames ignored the cop, the crowd, and the laughter. He scrabbled through the muck on his hands and knees in a frantic search for his Fudgy Buddy. It had flown out of his hand in the collision and disappeared into the litter that lined the street.

 

Max spotted it first. She dived for it with a triumphant yell, but Ames somehow got there ahead of her and she slammed into his back instead and bounced off.

 

Ames scooped up the Fudgy Buddy and scrambled to his feet. “It’s mine, you freak!” he gloated.

 

“Grrr!” Max growled from her awkward position on the ground, and prepared to launch herself at Ames.

 

Alec, Sketchy, and Original Cindy skidded to a halt behind Ames. Original Cindy glared daggers at Ames’ back and then did what any self-respecting, tough-assed chick from the hood would do when her best boo was in trouble. She tackled Ames, latching onto him piggy-back style. Taken completely by surprise, Ames went down face first in the mud.

 

“Cool. Dog pile!” Sketchy shouted enthusiastically. He threw himself on top of Original Cindy and Ames.

 

Alec cocked one eyebrow at Max and grinned wickedly. Max giggled. They both jumped onto the dog pile just as Ames was struggling to get out from under the two hapless humans. The five of them rolled around in a tangled ball of limbs, kicking and punching and pulling hair. They rolled right into the sector cop just as he got to his feet, and he was pulled down into the writhing mess.

 

Logan staggered up, breathing heavily. He tried to get out of their way, but unfortunately he miscalculated the force of his jump. The exo propelled him into half a dozen oncoming sector cops just as they arrived to break up the brawl. Two cops went down like bowling pins.

 

Those cops still standing waded into the melee with feet, fists, and elbows flying. After a great deal of effort and a few swears that would have made their mothers blush in shame, the cops hauled all six miscreants to their feet by their collars.

 

Ames glowered at everyone indiscriminately. Ice cream was smeared across his face and into his hair. A few nuts clung to the chocolate sauce like pimples. Apparently the Fudgy Buddy burst when Original Cindy tackled him to the ground. “ **Somebody**  needs to invest in a toothbrush,” he muttered. He flung his arm out and pointed in the general direction of the Jam Pony crew. In a commanding voice he announced, “They hurt me. Burn them.”

 

Unfortunately for his revenge, he’d clearly overlooked the fact that Seattle cops weren’t under his jurisdiction and therefore under no obligation to burn anyone.

 

The sector police captain gave him an odd look and sighed heavily. “You’re all under arrest.”

 

Max and her friends groaned. “But dude, it’s happy hour!” Sketchy protested. “Twofer time!”

 

Ames’ mouth dropped open and his eyes bugged out of his head. He gaped at the captain in a rather remarkable impersonation of a beached fish. “What?!” he sputtered. “You can’t arrest me, I work for the government!  **I**  do the arresting around here!”

 

“Sure you do buddy,” the captain scoffed. He barely even glanced over at Ames.

 

Ames ground his teeth together so hard they threatened to crack. He didn’t take well to being ignored, especially by men he considered little better than cannon fodder. “ **I**  am a  **federal agent**.” He started to pat down his pockets, searching for whichever law enforcement badge he was using that day.

 

“Not today,” Alec whispered to Max and showed her the wallet he’d stolen off Ames, complete with credit cards and government ID. Max giggled. Alec removed the money and tossed the wallet behind a nearby dumpster with a flick of his wrist.

 

His smirk turned into a pouty frown when he saw how little cash there was. “They sure don’t pay Ames-y much,” he complained.

 

“Maybe that’s why he’s always so grumpy,” Max whispered.

 

Alec nodded thoughtfully. That made sense. After all, the guy’s dry cleaning bills had to be astronomical from all the filthy sewers he schlepped through in pursuit of the transgenics.

 

Then, in a signature move, Alec raised the fistful of rumpled dollar bills to his face and sniffed at it. Max crinkled her nose in disgust. “Why do you do that?” she asked, and waved her hand to indicate his nose and the money.

 

Alec shrugged. “It’s a character quirk,” he said with a cocky grin. “Don’t I look endearing?” He brought the money back to his nose and wriggled his eyebrows at her.

 

Max opened her mouth to deliver what was sure to be another oh-so-witty variation on her standard “No!”, “Shut up, you jerk!”, and “I’m so going to kick your ass!” when the captain nailed them with his stare.

 

“What are you two whispering about?” he barked.

 

“Nothing,” they chorused. They opened their eyes wide, trying their best to look bashful and innocent.

 

“Listen to me, you jumped up excuse for law enforcement. I work for the NSA. Those two are transgenic freaks,” Ames snarled, pointing at Max and Alec, “and I’m here to arrest them. They’re a threat to national security, so I suggest you get the hell out of my way. Now.”

 

The captain stared intently at Max and Alec. Their clothes were dirty and dishevelled from rolling on the ground, Max had dirt smeared across her cheek, and Alec had a black eye from one of Sketchy’s elbows. They didn’t exactly look like supersoldiers. Whereas Ames, on the other hand, looked and sounded like a raving lunatic.

 

Still, the captain ordered one of his men to check for barcodes. Fortunately, both Max and Alec had freshly lazered necks.

 

“He stole my ice cream,” Max complained with a pretty pout. She batted her eyelids at the nearest cop, a young, pimply-faced kid. He blushed to the roots of his hair.

 

“It was mine first, you little brat!” Ames hissed at Max.

 

“Was not!” she retorted, her fists planted on her hips.

 

“Was too!”

 

“Was  **not**!”

 

“Was  **too**!”

 

“ **Enough**!” the captain shouted. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was getting a headache from this. “So let me get this straight. Those two are mutant freaks,” he said, pointing to Max and Alec, “you’re a government agent,” now pointing to Ames, “and let me guess... he’s Eyes Only.”

 

Everyone stiffened in shock, until they realized the captain was pointing at Sketchy, not Logan. They let out huge gasps of relief and grinned like the captain just told the funniest joke ever. All except for Sketchy. He looked slightly miffed by his friends’ reaction.

 

“What? I could be Eyes Only,” Sketchy complained. He deepened his voice and said in his best imitation of the Movie Phone Guy, “This is a Streaming Freedom Video Bulletin...”

 

“Shut up, fool.” Original Cindy smacked him on the back of the head.

 

“You’re all under arrest,” the captain announced in a tired voice. “We’ll sort this out at the station.”

 

* * *

 

The six of them were herded into one large holding cell. From the lingering stench of stale beer, sweat and vomit in the air, it was normally used as a drunk tank.

 

Max and Ames sat sulking in opposite corners of the cell, studiously ignoring the other’s existence. Ames had scrubbed most of the ice cream off his face using Logan’s handkerchief –- after Logan used it in a vain attempt to wipe the bench clean -- but some of it had hardened in his hair and his tie was splotched with chocolate.

 

Original Cindy whipped out a nail file and set to work repairing the damage to her nails caused by her wrestling match with Agent White. She knew from her prior arrest -- also courtesy of her home girl -- just how many hot lickety chicks there were in prison, and she wanted to look her best.

 

Sketchy and Alec kept themselves entertained by playing ‘Rock, Scissors, Paper’ over and over. Naturally Alec was kicking Sketchy’s ass. Enhanced eyesight does have its advantages. Plus Sketchy followed a completely predictable pattern of rock-scissors-paper-paper-scissors-rock.

 

Logan eyed his filthy surroundings with distaste and consoled himself by thinking of all the lovely emails that would be waiting for him at home. Asha, of course -- she was  **so**  dedicated to the cause -- his accountant, maybe his mechanic...

 

Suddenly Ames could no longer resist the urge. He stood up, closed his eyes, threw his arms wide and belted out, “The hiiillls are aaaliiive, with the soouunnnd of muuusiiic, the soooongsss they havesuuunnng, for a thoouusaaannnd yeaaarssss...”

 

His voice reverberated through the big hollow room, amplified ten-fold by the perfect acoustics. Unfortunately for everyone’s hearing, not to mention their sanity, Ames sounded like two pennies and a cat in heat rolling around in a trash can.

 

Max, Alec, Original Cindy, and Logan clapped their hands over their ears. Sketchy grabbed his hat, with its fully rotational brim, and smacked Ames with it on the back of his head.

 

The cell went silent. Everyone stopped dead and stared in stupefied horror at the scene. Ames slowly rotated on his heel to face Sketchy, a look of pure, dumbfounded shock on his face. Sketchy shrugged, oblivious to his impending doom. “You’re killing us here, dude. You’re like, totally off key.” He calmly stuck his cap back on his head and rotated the brim to the side.

 

“Off key??” Ames sputtered in inarticulate rage. His nostrils flared and he turned an alarming shade of red. He resembled a rooster protesting the imminent use of the axe. He puffed out his chest and drew himself up to his full height, which was still several inches below that of the lanky messenger. “I do  **not**  sing off key!  **I**  am the next stage of human evolution. Your ears are obviously defective, you pathetic, moronic, dumb-assed excuse for a human being!”

 

Original Cindy jumped to her feet, her hands on her hips. “Hey, there’s a lot that ain’t right wit our Sketch, but he’s got you pegged. Julie Andrews ya ain’t.”

 

“I dunno,” Alec piped up. He cocked his head to one side and stared intently at Ames. “Dye his hair blond, stick him in a black dress and an apron...”

 

They all cocked their heads to look at Ames and then, in unison, they shuddered. “Ewww!”

 

“Anyone else go to a scary visual place?” Max asked as she smacked Alec hard on the back of the head. He pouted and retreated into the corner to sulk.

 

Ames let out a heavy sigh. He was  **so**  misunderstood. Julie Andrews?! Puh-lease!

 

Original Cindy waved her hand in front of her nose. “Ug. Buy yer damn self a toothbrush. Original Cindy can smell yer rank breath from here.” Ames glared at her with his patented look-at-me-I’m-so-evil-and-intimidating glare.

 

Logan butted into the conversation, seemingly unaware of the tension in the room. “Did you know that toothbrushes are great for getting rid of soap scum in your shower?”

 

They all turned to look at Logan in disbelief. Had he completely missed the fact that Ames let Sketchy live after assaulting him?

 

“Well they are,” Logan said defensively.

 

“Thanks for the tip, Martha,” Ames sneered. Mentally he made a note to swing by the pharmacy and stock up on extra toothbrushes. Ever since he killed Wendy, the bathroom was looking a little grotty.

 

Silence descended on the cell. Unable to bear not being the centre of attention, Max leapt into the conversational void. “Let’s play Pin-The-Blame-On-The-Idiot-Who-Got-Us-Into-This-Mess. I blame  **you** ,” she snarled, glaring at Ames. “Can you guess  **why**?”

 

He matched her glare for glare. “That was  **my**  Fudgy Buddy, you misbegotten test-tube freak!”

 

“Like hell, you inbred mutant!” she retorted.

 

“Well,  **I** blame  **Alec** ,” Logan announced. “If he hadn’t tried to burn down my kitchen, we wouldn’t have gone to the market in the first place.”

 

“Once again, not my fault!” Alec whined. “If  **you** **’d**  paid attention instead of watching your pasta boil, you’da noticed the steaks were more than just a little charbroiled. And why were we having pasta with steak anyway? You never heard of baked potatoes? Or corn on the cob?”

 

“Ohh, I know! I blame Max,” Sketchy volunteered excitedly. Apparently he was under the delusion this was actually a game. But then again, he was under a delusion of one sort or another 24/7 so his confusion was only to be expected. “If Max hadn’t chased what’s-his-name, the cops wouldn’t’ve arrested us.”

 

“Moron,” Ames muttered, not at all quietly. “We were arrested for brawling in a public place. A brawl which, incidentally,  **you**  started.”

 

“Actually, that was Her Originalness,” Alec chimed in.

 

“ **Enough**!” Original Cindy hollered, her hands firmly planted on her hips. “Enough with the yelling and the blaming, already. I don care who’s damn fault it was. It’s enough ta give a girl a headache. I hear one more peep outta any of ya on the subject, and Original Cindy’s gonna lay the smack down on all yer sorry asses.”

 

She stared them all down. Before the group could decide whether to obey or start a mutiny, they were interrupted by the arrival of a guard. He stopped outside their cell and announced in a bored voice that each prisoner would have the chance to make a single phone call, provided of course that they had 25¢ and could find a working pay phone.

 

Sketchy and Original Cindy exchanged a baffled look. Who were they going to call... Normal? He’d break the sound barrier getting there to rescue his beloved Golden Boy but he’d leave the rest of the Jam Pony crew to rot. And probably give the police an earful as to why they should never be released this side of doomsday.

 

Max and Alec weren’t much better off. They could call Mole, but his idea of helping them out would probably involve a tank. Or two.

 

That left Logan. With great reluctance, and not a little eye-rolling and muttered grumbling, the four friends turned to face their chaperone. Logan puffed out his chest in pride at the thought that he was the only one who could save the two supersoldiers and their friends from this terrible fate. He spent the next 30 minutes debating whether to call Asha, Bling, Sam Carr, or Matt Sung -- the only people he knew who weren’t currently in ‘the Big House’ with him.

 

After much deliberation, he finally decided to call Matt. They were in police custody after all, and since Matt was a police officer it just seemed like his area of expertise. Logan strutted from the cell like a peacock on display at the local zoo, carrying the hopes of the others that they’d get out before happy hour was over at Crash.

 

Ames didn’t fare quite so well. Sure he had oodles of lackeys and minions and underlings he could call. Hell, he even had a personal shopper! Trouble was he didn’t know any of their phone numbers; they were all programmed into his cell phone, which had mysteriously disappeared during his little tussle with 452 and her friends.

 

Max giggled and nudged Alec in the ribs. She opened her jacket pocket to reveal a silver cell phone. “I also swiped his car keys,” she whispered.

 

Alec grinned. “Poor Amesy-poo. Just ain’t his day.”

 

Max mentally added the items she and Alec stole off the Big Bad, and her face lit up with glee. “Two points for me and only one for you. Hah! I’m the better pickpocket,” she crowed.

 

“Nah, I got his watch too.” Alec smirked and pulled Ames’ gold Rolex from his pocket. Max pouted. It wasn’t fair; she was the star of this 3-ring circus, she was supposed to beat Alec in  **everything**.

 

Alec stared at Ames thoughtfully. “Five points for his tie, 10 for a sock,” he offered.

 

Max giggled. “You’re on.” The two transgenics grinned in thievish delight.

 

Ames narrowed his eyes, disconcerted by the looks they were sending his way. “What are you two mentally deficient freaks laughing at?”

 

“Nothing,” they chorused. They eyed Ames like cats about to pounce on the unsuspecting mouse.

 

Ames backed into a corner and glared at them with his very best touch-me-and-you-die-horribly stare. They seemed unaffected by it. Where’s that freaky mind-control kid when you really need him?

 

The staring contest was interrupted by the return of Logan. With him was Matt Sung. Logan had stumbled across the detective in his vain quest to find a working pay phone. To Matt’s undying mortification, Logan had actually flung his arms around him and sobbed his name in relief, right there in the middle of the precient. Matt could hear the two guards at the end of the hall snickering as the story was recounted. He’d be the laughing stock of the department for weeks, thanks to his good buddy Logan Cale. He grit his teeth and had to resist the urge to shove Logan back in the cell and lose the key.

 

“You’re free to go,” Matt informed the Jam Pony crew.

 

“What about him?” one of the guards asked, jerking his thumb in Ames’ direction.

 

“Who?” Matt asked in confusion. “Oh. Him. I dunno.” He shrugged. “I don’t even know who he is.”

 

Ames threw his hands in the air. “Ames White. I’m Special Agent Ames White, of the NSA. Why does no one around here give me the respect I deserve?”

 

“Prolly cuz you’re an inbred cult loonie with ice cream in his hair.” Max blew him a kiss and skipped out of the cell behind her crew, leaving poor Ames to his fate.

 


End file.
